"Sheik ul Islam," said the ready Macaulay.
"Sheik Ool is lamb!" repeated Chrysophrasia, thoughtfully. "Lamb,—so symbolical in our own very symbolic religion. It means so much, you know."
"Chrysophrasia!" ejaculated Mary Carvel, in a tone of gentle reproach. She thought she detected the far-off shadow of a possible irreverence in her sister's tone. Macaulay again interposed, while Paul and I endeavored to avoid each other's eyes, lest we should be overtaken by an explosion of laughter.
"It is 'Islam,' not 'is lamb,' aunt Chrysophrasia," said Macaulay, mildly.
"I don't see much difference," retorted Miss Dabstreak, "except that you say it is lamb, and I say it is lamb. Oh! you mean it is one word,—yes; I dare say," she added quickly, in some confusion. "Of course, I don't speak Turkish."
"It is Arabic," observed the implacable Macaulay.
"John," said Chrysophrasia, ignoring the correction with a fine indifference, "we must see everything at once. When shall we begin?"
The question effectually turned the conversation, for all the party were anxious to see what Macaulay was equally anxious to show, having himself only seen each sight once. The remainder of the time while we sat at table was occupied in discussing the various expeditions which the party must undertake in order to see the city and its surroundings systematically. After dinner John and I remained behind for a while. Paul wanted to talk to Hermione, and Macaulay, who was the most domestic of young men, preferred the society of his mother and aunts, whom he had not seen for several months, to the smell of cigars and Turkish coffee.
"What do you think of her?" asked John Carvel when we were alone. "She seems perfectly sane, does she not?"
"Perfectly. What proves it best is the way she treats Paul. She is very affectionate. I suppose there is no fear of a relapse?"